


Tiger Potter and the First Year at Hogwarts

by toutcequonveut



Series: Tiger Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Autistic Irma Pince, Canon Rewrite, Comedy, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Humor, MTF Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Misgendering, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Tiger Potter, Trans Harry Potter, but it's fairly minor, not a crackfic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toutcequonveut/pseuds/toutcequonveut
Summary: When she is 11 years old (properly! She got a cake and everything, it’s official now), the Potter child tentatively informs the large bearded man who called himself Hagrid that while she really appreciates him saving her from the clutches of the Dursleys, he had gotten one thing wrong.“My name’s not Harry,” she says. “Also I’m a girl.”-The story of the trans Girl Who Lived to name herself Tiger.
Series: Tiger Potter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736806
Comments: 50
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing for HP Transfest when someone asked about a flower name for trans!Harry and my brain went Lily → Tigerlily → Tiger, and then I wrote a few snippets that have turned into this 10k work that STILL doesn't have the scene I really wanted to write soooo looks like I'm going to have to do a full canon rewrite XD
> 
> Some parts may seem crack-y, but this is not intended to be a crackfic
> 
> Beta-ed by bafflinghaze! Thank you so much! :D

When she is 11 years old (properly! She got a cake and everything, it’s official now), the Potter child tentatively informs the large bearded man who called himself Hagrid that while she really appreciates him saving her from the clutches of the Dursleys, he had gotten one thing wrong.

“My name’s not Harry,” she says. “Also I’m a girl.”

Hagrid, with a kindness that can only be cultivated from a rather irresponsible obsession with extremely dangerous magical creatures, asks her gently, “What’s yer name then, eh?”

She looks down gloomily. “I dunno, I just know that it’s not Harry.”

Hagrid takes a moment to respond. Such grave words from a newly 11-year old cause pause in even the sternest of adults, and Hagrid barely qualified for either of those descriptions. Also he is currently rowing a boat in a storm and attempting not to let them capsize despite the enormous weight imbalance between him on one side and the Girl-Who-Lived on the other.

“Well,” he muses. “Yer mum’s name was Lily. Reckon something along those lines would fit ye nicely.”

The girl’s eyes light up immediately. “TIGER!”

The boat rocks dangerously. “Where?” Hagrid exclaims, whipping around in his seat as he tries to spot a carnivorous feline on the open waves.

“Aah! No! There’s no tiger here, I meant my name!” Tiger exclaims. “My most favorite flower is tigerlilies, and if my mum’s name was Lily, then I should be Tiger!”

As any man who would theoretically attempt to raise a baby dragon in a wooden hut and also name said dragon Norbert would think, Hagrid agrees that this is a wonderful and entirely logical decision.

So it is that Tiger Potter heads off to Hogwarts.

* * *

“Blimey!” the redheaded boy Tiger is sharing a compartment with yells. _“You’re Harry Potter!”_

“No I’m not!” Tiger yells back, insulted.

There is a beat of silence.

“Okay, so ignoring the part where you totally are, why do you sound like you just stepped on a bug and the bug was what I said?” 

“My name’s Tiger, that’s why.”

Ron thinks about this and remembers how he’d felt when his parents never seem to remember his name. He comes to the conclusion that he, too, would vocally squash that wrong name like a bug, especially if a stranger did it to him. Calling a child his brother’s name is not really the same situation at all, but if that’s what it takes for the 11-year old sixth son of seven children to understand Tiger’s predicament, then so be it.

“Okay, fair enough. Sorry about that, Tiger. That’s a really cool name by the way. My name’s Ron Weasley. Can I see your scar?” 

Tiger had been prepared for more of a fight than this, considering what the Dursleys had put her through. The casual acceptance throws her, but she’s not one to look a gift Petunia in the mouth. There’s only vitriol to be found down there.

* * *

“Have either of you seen a toad?” demands a girl with the most incredible hair Tiger has ever seen. She is shadowed by a tall, sandy blond boy with chubby cheeks who is wringing his hands.

“Nope,” Ron replies, not even looking up from what he is doing.

The girl squints to see what exactly that is, and—

“Are you using Chocolate Frog cards to play Go Fish?”

Ron looks at Tiger, who nods encouragingly, then turns back to face the girl. “Yeah, what of it?”

She stares a moment longer then repeats her question. “Are you _sure_ you haven’t seen a toad?” 

Tiger is the one who answers this time, raising her head to get a better look at the new occupants of the compartment. “To be completely honest we haven’t been looking outside.” 

The girl gasps. “You’re Harry Potter! I read about you in my history books! Did you really defeat a troll with a fireplace poker when you were eight? Oh, I’m Hermione Granger by the way. My parents are both dentists.”

Tiger sighs. She had been looking forward to having a fresh start at this brand new school where no one would know her by that other name, but apparently she’s some kind of celebrity or something so that’s clearly not going to happen. She wishes she’d known this sooner so she could brainstorm some witty responses and be able to whip them out as needed. And it looks as if she would need them a lot.

“My name’s actually Tiger,” she states neutrally.

“What?” demands Hermione.

“Tiger, like the animal—”

“No, I heard you, I just. Why would the authors not know your name? Did they not do any research? How did they not notice when they did the interviews with you?”

“ _What_ interviews? Actually, what even are these _books_ you’re talking about?”

Hermione gasps, horrified. “You don’t know what _books_ are?”

“What?! Of course I do. How did you even—” Tiger quickly reviews what she’d said and comes to the conclusion that she had indeed made an ambiguous statement. “Oh. No, I meant, what books am I in? No one ever talked to me about anything, I didn’t even know I was famous.”

“They didn’t even interview you,” Hermione breathes, rage building to an inferno in her eyes. “Books that knowingly print falsehoods are no better than infomercials at 3am about products that don’t work!”

“Erm, what?” Ron asks, confused. 

“TO HELL WITH INACCURACIES!” Hermione cries, whipping out her wand and pointing it straight at Tiger.

Both Ron and the sandy blond boy lunge for her wand arm in terror, but it’s too late. A wisp of light has escaped the tip, and before their eyes (Ron’s and the boy’s: frightened, Hermione’s: triumphant, Tiger’s: bemused) the jellyfish-like blob of light has reached Tiger and sunken into her heart. The outline of her body faintly glows green, and then the light fades away. 

Everyone looks at Hermione questioningly. She looks steadily back with a smirk, twirling her wand between her fingers and immediately dropping it as it passes between her middle and ring fingers. She’ll definitely need to practice that more. 

“It’s a name change spell,” she offers with darkened cheeks, straightening up from having picked up her wand. “Came up with it myself. It’ll update anything currently written with your correct name and pronouns.” She pulls out a book from her bag and shows it to them proudly. “See?” 

They all lean in to get a look. The title had once read “Harry Potter and how the Boy-Who-Lived Saved Us All’. Now though, there is what appears to be flaky White-out covering “Harry” and “Boy”, and wobbly red letters declare the title to be “Tiger Potter and how the Girl-Who-Lived Saved Us All”. Despite the ragged look of the corrections, the text underneath the White-out seems to be well and truly gone.

The other children look back up to Hermione, who blushes further under the scrutiny and lowers her wand but refuses to look embarrassed all the same. “I just hate misinformation,” she defends.

The compartment’s collective attention shifts back to Tiger, who has decided how she feels about the whole encounter. She flashes a grin at Hermione and exclaims, “Thanks!”

* * *

The compartment door slams open again, but this time no one looks up to see who is in the doorway. Tiger, Ron, and Hermione are currently attempting to impress upon Neville the finer points of Go Fish. This would be made easier if 14 of the 18 total cards in their deck weren’t all the same (did Albus Dumbledore pay someone? This can’t be representative of the total distribution of chocolate frog cards). 

Unsatisfied with the response, the blond kid in the doorway gently slides the door shut before whipping it open once more with a dramatic flourish of his arm. The sleeve of the Hogwarts robes he’s wearing flares out dramatically, and he looks pleased at this, as if he’s been practicing this move (he has, in fact, ever since Tiger met him at Madam Malkin’s). 

This time the group does look up, if only because of the repetition of his action. “Yes?” braves Tiger. “Can we help you?”

The boy continues to stare at Tiger inscrutably for another minute before speaking. “Harry Potter, I presume?”

“You presume wrong,” Tiger responds immediately. She does not offer any further explanation and goes back to debating whether to ask Ron for his Albus Dumbledores or Newt Scamanders. 

More silence, then—

“Well who _are_ you then?”

Tiger glances up at the boy again and then turns to her fellow students. When none of them seem to want to answer him, she offers, “My name is Tiger.”

The snooty look on the boy’s face transforms into wide-eyed wonder in an instant. “ _Tiger Turpin_? I thought you’d left Hogwarts and were fronting for that band of yours, Nymphs of Neverland? Oh never mind, it’s such an honor to meet you! My father thinks your music is an affront to the good name of wizardkind and a disgrace to be produced by Pureblooded stock, but _I_ think your music is wonderful. Sometimes Mother will sneak me a record for my birthday and we’ll listen to it when Father is at work and it’s just absolutely the best. My name is Draco Malfoy, by the way, and I’m your biggest fan!” 

Draco’s eyes are absolutely sparkling by this point, illuminated with joy at meeting his hero. This same light blinds him to the scar and the company, and whispers in his ear that of course Tiger Turpin would have a wicked cool scar. The awesomeness of his day has just peaked. He takes three steps forward and thrusts his hand out.

Overwhelmed at the prospect of someone wanting to shake her hand and this time _not_ because some mass murderer killed her parents and was so inept at killing that he messed up and killed himself instead of her, Tiger takes the hand and gives it a timid shake. 

Before she can say anything else, Draco’s eyes widen and he backs up out the compartment door. “Oh Merlin, pardon me! I’m so sorry, I swear I’m nothing like your rabid fans. In fact, I’ll stand guard outside your compartment to make sure that no one bothers you! Enjoy your ride!”

The compartment door slams shut.

Tiger, Ron, Hermione, and Neville stare at each other for a moment.

“Well,” Ron ventures. “I think you’ve found your ticket for witty responses.”

* * *

Tiger bites her lip nervously as she listens to her yearmates get Sorted. The kid from the robe shop had turned out to be less snobby than she’d thought (and also aspired to be Tiger Turpin’s number one fanboy? Who would have guessed?). Ron had put his foot in it at the beginning but then turned out to be pretty cool. Hermione was a bit bossy but had helped her out with that spell. Neville looked like he thought his own shadow might bite him, but it was he who had gone to shield Tiger first when they thought Hermione’s spell might be dangerous. Each seemed to fit a different House based on what she’d heard, leaving her wondering where the hat would decide to place her. 

She watches Granger, Hermione get Sorted into Gryffindor and Longbottom, Neville sit under the hat for ten minutes before making his way on wobbly legs over to Gryffindor as well. Malfoy, Draco walks up to the stool while frequently looking over his shoulder to sneak glances at Tiger. The hat barely touches his head before belting out, “SLYTHERIN!”

And then it is her turn.

“Potter, H—what in Merlin’s bloomers?” Professor McGonagall sputters to a stop. She stares at her parchment, bringing it closer to her face as if doing so will change what Tiger suspects is flaky white-out with red correction over it. The silence drags on for a few seconds, and then she whips her head around to glare at two redheads who bear a remarkable resemblance to each other and only a passing resemblance to Ron. 

“Mr. and Mr. Weasley!” she thunders. “What is the meaning of this?”

The two indicated Weasleys glance at each other in confusion, then stand up together.

“With all due respect, Professor—“

“—which is plenty, we assure you—“

“—oh certainly, more respect than all the mischief in our hearts—“

“—higher than the Great Hall is high—“

“—and deeper than the Great Lake is deep—“

“—in this particular case, we aren’t sure—“

“—to what you might be referring.”

And after that whiplash-inducing speech, the two nod in unison to Professor McGonagall and await her response. 

Professor McGonagall looks about to rip into the twins for their cheek but appears to think better of doing so during the Sorting Ceremony. With one more glare, she calls out, “Potter, Harry!”

No one moves, especially not Tiger, who is holding her breath. 

Up at the staff table, away from young eyes and ears, a certain dour-looking professor scowls. Trust this newest Potter to be the newest iteration of brat in that lineage. Is he waiting for a title? _King_ , perhaps? 

A few seats down, a purple-robed, wizened wizard twinkles harder from his eyeballs. It’s kind of creepy, really.

After a minute or so of agitated silence during which Professor McGonagall appears to be using _her_ eyeballs to send a message promising dire consequences if she continues to say nothing, Tiger timidly says, “My last name is Potter, but my first name isn’t Harry.”

Professor McGonagall just raises a single eyebrow with terrifying and exacting speed.

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy feels like his heart has stopped and his world is crashing. It can’t be? Is that not his hero, the frontliner of the Nymphs of Neverland?”

“Doesn’t your list have my name?”

Professor McGonagall’s lips tighten, and a breath rushes out of her nostrils so fiercely that some students wonder if she is part dragon. And then, to the surprise of everyone, including Tiger, she announces, “Potter, Tiger.”

The dour-faced professor’s scowl immediately transforms into an enraged sneer. _What_ in Merlin’s name is Minerva thinking, entertaining such, such… _childish tomfoolery?_ Even the purple-robed professor seems startled out of projecting sparkles from his orbits and watches the scene with mouth agape. 

Tiger steps forward. Mentally, she prays to her mom for courage. Hagrid had said that she was in the brave house, right? Maybe she wouldn’t mind lending her daughter some of that bravery. Each step forward seems to take an eternity, until finally she is sitting on the stool and the Hat is plopped unceremoniously atop her head.

The world goes dark, and a voice from everywhere and nowhere says, _“Hmm what do we have here?”_

* * *

The rest of the Feast passes in a blur. Tiger is still reeling from her conversation with the Hat. It had apparently picked up on her indecision and ambivalence, which made her feel better because that made it seem better suited to picking where she went, but also worse because reading someone’s mind is kind of creepy.

In the end, the Hat told her she was ambitious enough for Slytherin, and then she had asked the Hat if it remembered her mother. Pausing its preparations to announce her Sorting, the Hat affirmed that it did remember Lily Evans. Tiger had then inquired timidly if the Hat thought her mum would be proud of her, even if she was a girl and not a boy like her parents probably thought. The Hat responded that it could not answer that, but it would give her the chance to find out in—

“GRYFFINDOR!”

So here she is squashed between Hermione and Neville with Ron on the other side of the table. This means that she is also in prime position both to get flecked by gravy as Ron slurps his mashed potatoes (seriously, how does he even manage to attain that kind of lift?) as well as to make direct eye contact with Draco Malfoy, who still looks shocked and despondent. Tiger resolves to catch up to him later and explain the situation. Then she remembers that she’s in the house of the brave, so she stands and makes her way across the hall. 

She can feel the eyes boring into her, but not even fear of shame can stop her (though it can make her legs shake with each step). It’s important to her not to alienate any potential friends, after the very thorough job the Dursleys had done in ensuring she had none before now. Draco doesn’t seem like a bad sort, maybe a bit snooty but Tiger thinks that he is probably just easily influenced. 

She’s reached the Slytherin table now, and it does not escape her that the air over here feels a bit more barbed. She wonders if it’s always like that, or is this special for her? Draco is now staring up at her, and Tiger sees that his plate is still full. He looks so incredibly hurt, and Tiger comes to a decision.

Lifting her hand slowly, Tiger leans in close, looks Draco straight in the eye, and murmurs, “Sorry for the mixup earlier. I really am Tiger Turpin, but I’m trying to lay low so I’m under a false name to avoid suspicion. Can I count on my biggest fan to keep my secret?” 

Draco pulls back instantly, his eyes widening and his eyebrows leaping for cover but unable to find it because his fringe is gelled back. “Really?” he breathes. 

Tiger nods solemnly and silently vows to track down some albums of Nymphs of Neverland so she can start practicing emulating the lead singer. 

“You can most certainly count on me!” Draco squeals, pumping her hand up and down. Seeming to remember his audience, he blushes and sits back. “I mean… the scion of the House of Malfoy gladly accepts your request.”

Blinking at the sudden formality, Tiger gives him a small smile and a wink, then turns around to head back to the Gryffindor table, missing Draco’s swoon into the roast vegetables.

* * *

Tiger loves school.

She has her _own bed_ , and it’s more comfortable than anything she’s slept in before.

She has _Hedwig_ , and if anyone had told her that she’d get the most gorgeous snowy owl for her birthday, she’d have laughed in their face because she has _never_ gotten anything for her birthday. 

She has _friends_ , and she feels the same way about them as she does the birthday presents - mostly, disbelief that they’re really real and they seem to enjoy her company.

She’s learning _magic_ , and opening the door to whole new concepts and rules she’s never heard of before is fantastic. Plus, after Madame Pince had found her in the stacks late one night crying over a particularly heinous textbook, she had found herself whisked into a back office with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. She had sipped at it slowly until it was gone, at which point Madame Pince simply poured another and pushed a tin of biscuits over, raising one stern eyebrow. The truth had come spilling out of her then, how letters and words seem to leap around a page while she’s staring at them. She asked the librarian what kind of spell this is and how come it has never worn off, but Madame Pince shakes her head and says that sometimes people’s brains just do that. She then shows Tiger three spells, one to read a page of text out loud, one to write down what she dictates, and one to silence the air around her so she will not disturb the peace of the library while doing either of the above. 

Most importantly, _no one misgenders her_. Somehow, and she really doesn’t know how, word had gotten around to the professors that she is to be called _Ms._ Potter. In the back of her mind, she wonders if this isn’t the work of Draco Malfoy. True to his word, he’s been tailing her with his starstruck eyes but not being a creep or anything, and she’s seen him scolding other kids who might want to “bother her”. Honestly, that bothers her because it reminds her of Dudley bullying potential friends, but it’s not until their first flying lesson _(flying!)_ when he starts picking on Neville that she does something about it. 

The instant Draco begins taunting the other boy, Tiger takes a bold step forward and just says “Malfoy” in a loud voice. She’s never seen anyone figuratively shrink so fast, though he has enough guts to respond with a meek “yes?” She merely frowns and shakes her head slowly, and that is enough for tears to start slipping down Draco’s cheeks. He excuses himself to the infirmary, making an excuse about how some pollen must have gotten in his eyes, no he didn’t need an escort. After that incident, Tiger has visited him in the Hospital Wing where Madame Pomfrey is soothing what she thought was a case of homesickness (but is really a case of starstruckness). Draco is sitting on a bed propped up against the pillows when Tiger appears. She holds out a hand palm up to him, and Draco hastily grabs it with both of his, swearing that he didn’t mean it, please don’t hate him. Tiger replies by asking him to leave other kids alone, especially the ones around her. In order to keep her true identity as Tiger Turpin a secret, she has to blend in because wouldn’t it look suspicious to be a loner? She expects that her Number One Fan can manage that, yes? He won’t let this one disappointment be the start of a trend? Draco heartily agrees, and in exchange, Tiger sings him a song. 

She’s been practicing ever since her second night in Gryffindor tower (and it had been a _very_ cool discovery that her things had been moved into the girls dormitory by themselves! She had been expecting more of a fight.). After dinner, she had begun asking if anyone knew of the Nymphs of Neverland or had a way to listen to their music. It turns out that Parvati Patil, her roommate, is a decent fan and has brought her collection of records as well as a gramophone. “It’s so funny how you have the same name as the lead singer!” she giggles as she pulls out her ninth record. “You might actually be the same person, since they never release pictures of themselves or anything. I bet they’re all sooo dreamy,” she continues, then struggles a little as she finagles the horn of the gramophone out of her trunk. When Tiger looks in confusion at the improbably large things that she is unpacking, Parvati explains that there are Expansion Charms on the trunk.

“So,” Hermione says, eyes shining, “you could say _it’s bigger on the inside?”_

None of the other three girls catch the reference, and Hermione spends the next few minutes sulking. Tiger invites Hermione to listen to the records with her as a peace offering. Then they listen again, because it turns out that Hermione _really likes_ the Nymphs of Neverland. They have a sound like all the magic of the wilderness and misty mountains and the voice of the wind put into audio form, with the addition of a catchy, grooving beat. It’s not Tiger’s favorite music, but it’s pretty good, and she resolves to learn the song that she likes best from each record. She figures that should carry her through.

Lavender Brown turns out to be a godsend in this endeavor because she apparently comes from a family of magical musicians. She’s had voice lessons since she was old enough to carry a tune, and her own trunk is packed with her favorite instruments in addition to her second love: gossip magazines. Tiger promises to trade her a 1-year subscription to Witch Weekly in exchange for music lessons, and the two shake on it.

Thus, her first performance of Tiger Tur-Potter is in the Hospital Wing, softly and for an audience of one. She knows that an intense fan like Draco would immediately pick up that she doesn’t sound like the true singer, but her plan is twofold: one, she can tell him that this is the acoustic version, and two: all singers sound different live. In the end, she doesn’t have to explain anything because Draco faints two lines in. Tiger stares at him a second in befuddlement, then breaks his remaining chocolate in half and leaves the Hospital Wing, munching on her pilfered trophy.

The sole exception to the marvelous things at Hogwarts is Headmaster Dumbledore. She had been summoned to his office on the first Saturday, and Tiger found him to be extremely odd and also a little creepy. For some reason she couldn’t name, he gave her the same creeps that she had felt with the Sorting Hat, so Tiger spent the entire time in his office shifting in her seat and looking down at her feet. She’s not even sure what he wanted, as he only asked her how she was doing, if she wanted a lemon drop, and then waited while turning up the twinkle. Even if she had felt inclined to make nice with him, that intention had fallen apart when he kept calling her “my boy”. She had quickly shot back that she’s not a boy, thank you very much, to which his only response was “Of course you aren’t,” in that gentle, chiding tone that ensured she would bear a grudge against him forever. No one said that Aunt Petunia didn’t rub off on her a little.

She is still fuming about it as she goes to Potions on Monday. Even Professor Snape, who seemed to hate her guts on the first day but abruptly stopped being as vicious after his eyes bored into her own for a bit, doesn’t give off the same patronizing air as Headmaster Dumbledore. He’s definitely a bit of a jerk, but it seems that he’s a jerk to everyone in Gryffindor. He keeps taking points from their house for _everything_. After getting in trouble since primary school for things she didn’t do, Tiger is long used to Professor Snape’s behavior and tries not to let his jerkiness bother her. For all that he’s a nasty man, he’s at least more interesting than Binns. 

Tiger’s very favorite subject is Charms, though. To her, only Transfiguration is second to the sheer embodiment of all that she considers magic. Charms, of course, is number one. She had initially been upset with herself over not getting the simplest of charms, and it isn’t until after Madame Pince shows her the reading spells that she understands. Charms is a very word-based magic, after all, and while Professor Flitwick does demonstrate the spells, he mostly expects the students to study the spell beforehand so they can spend class time practicing under supervision. Professor McGonagall teaches the same way, so her performance in both drastically improves after she can process the texts how she needs to.

The sudden progress lands Tiger in Professor McGonagall’s office. The Transfiguration professor explains that she’s not in trouble, but she would like to hear what has changed in Tiger’s study style to see such drastic improvement. Tiger explains Madame Pince’s involvement, and Professor McGonagall’s eyes widen, then take on a considering look. 

“Madame Pince does not often go out of her way to show her kindness, Ms. Potter, but I for one am very glad that she did so for you. Tell me more about how written words seem to jump around?”

By the end of the session, Professor McGonagall and Tiger have gone through two cups of tea each and are nearing the end of the plate of biscuits, and Tiger has learned about a disorder called “dyslexia”. She’s also learned stories about her professor’s own time at Hogwarts and her path to obtain her Transfiguration Mastery. Tiger thinks Professor McGonagall is probably the coolest person in the entirety of Hogwarts. She doesn’t want to master Transfiguration herself, but she could see herself doing that in Charms and maybe being at least half as cool as Professor McGonagall in her lifetime. 

When the bell for 6pm sounds, Tiger doesn’t want to leave, but Professor McGonagall insists that she has spoiled her appetite enough and that she should go to the Great Hall and eat something more nourishing than gingersnaps. She does leave Tiger with the parting remark that she’s always in her office from 4-6pm, though. It’s the start of frequent meetings for tea between the two of them, and Tiger finds herself trusting an adult in a way that she hasn’t wanted to ever since her first primary school teacher believed the Dursleys over her. 

The semester passes like this. Tiger doesn’t feel much need to go exploring, given her goal of excelling at Charms and her side project of deepening her friendships and learning music with Lavender. Having never had the opportunity to pursue hobbies in Little Whinging, Tiger loves that she can do so now, and freely. When she relays this to Professor McGonagall, her hero reaches under her desk and pulls out a set of bagpipes. She asks if Tiger would like to learn them, and Tiger enthusiastically answers in the affirmative because _that means more time with Professor McGonagall!_

Unfortunately, the midterm exams are coming up, so she has to shelve that desire and throw her all into studying. She can’t stand the thought of not doing well in Charms or Transfiguration. It’s through this effort that she ends up reaching out to Professor Flitwick, and soon she is splitting her time 50:20:30 having tea with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Madame Pince. She doesn’t have nearly as much in common with Professor Flitwick, but rather sees him as someone who can help her get where she wants. Madame Pince, on the other hand, she spends time with because she thinks it’s rather sad that no one tries to. The librarian is certainly stern, but that only means that you have to go about making friends with her in a different way. It helps that Madame Pince seems to have a soft spot for her.

(What Tiger doesn’t know is that Madame Pince herself has an issue where she needed to navigate her schooling a little differently than her classmates. Her own issue was not one with words jumping around, more so general trouble with navigating the minefields of social interactions. At times, her mind could not move past sensations that she’s aware other people consider insignificant. Her grades had been tanking until the librarian of her own time took her under their wing and, after a few rounds of tea, supplied her with some books and a little piece of rock with interesting grooves to run her fingers over. They had also given her the words to describe who she is. Armed with knowledge, Madame Pince had resolved to do the same for any similar students during her time as librarian.)

It is through Madame Pince that Tiger learns more about the LGBTQ+ community. She had only known that she wasn’t a boy like everyone said, but now she knows that there are words and identities that she can choose to describe herself, if she wants. As one might expect, the librarian has a good number of resources to share with inquisitive students. Unexpectedly, she also has a personal collection of children’s books that feature LGBTQ+ characters. Tiger eagerly reads those, having been deprived of fiction as a child.

Tiger also learns that Madame Pince has been the librarian almost since she graduated, the “almost” being due to her short stint as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. By the end of that year, she had garnered more negative reviews from the students than anyone else in the history of the position. Tiger privately thinks that that’s only because she didn’t have Professor Quirrell to contend with at the time, but Madame Pince assures her that it was deserved. She says that she would have felt more hurt by that achievement if she hadn’t also realized that she was not cut out for teaching. The headmaster, feeling bad for insisting on hiring her despite her initial refusal due to lack of proper qualifications (he had had no one else apply for the position and was thus desperate) had assigned her the post of librarian. He had neglected to inform the former librarian of his decision, but luckily they and Madame Pince were still close and had worked out a compromise with the headmaster to run the library jointly until the older librarian was ready to leave. It’s a fascinating story, and Tiger loves hearing the history of people who have walked these halls long before she was born. The house in Little Whinging has no history or personality, but Hogwarts clearly does. With her parents gone, Tiger yearns to be connected to some kind of history, and not the kind that has the name “Dursley” attached to it. 

As for student friends, Tiger is decently close with her roommates. Lavender and Parvati are closest to each other, given their ability to squeal together over Witch Weekly articles and cute boys. While Tiger sees some appeal in the latter, Hermione absolutely does not. However, Hermione is at least able to bond with Parvati over Nymphs of Neverland records, and with Tiger over studying (though Tiger only really puts forth extra effort for two subjects). Aside from the other girls, Tiger tries to keep up her friendship with Ron Weasley. He’d been a bit put off at first that they weren’t in the same dorm (“Honestly, Ronald, why would she be in the boy’s dorm if she’s not a boy?” “I just didn’t think about it!”), but after Tiger shows that she’s willing to get destroyed by him at wizard chess from time to time, he settles into friendship with her. 

She also tries to stick with Neville Longbottom and make sure that he’s doing alright. After the Draco Malfoy incident, she’d begun noticing him more, and it’s clear that he’s having a hard time adjusting to boarding school. She takes it upon herself to partner with him in Herbology, firstly because it’s a good class to spend time idly chatting and getting to know someone and secondly because she can clearly see that he loves the subject and it’s always easier for someone to open up about things that they like. 

Who knows if it is Tiger’s dedication to friendship that prevents Neville from crying alone in a bathroom stall during the Halloween Feast? Whatever the case, when Professor Quirrell comes dashing into the Great Hall shouting about a troll in the dungeons, Tiger sees that all her friends are accounted for and obediently follows the Prefects up to Gryffindor Tower where the remainder of the feast somehow turns into a karaoke battle. Tiger places fourth, which she thinks is pretty impressive given her musical experience to date.

* * *

When it is time for Christmas holidays, Tiger excitedly signs herself up to stay at Hogwarts. She can’t wait to extend her “Days Since Seeing the Dursleys” calendar even longer. None of her roommates are staying, but Ron is. She only hopes he’ll understand that she doesn’t want to spend the entire vacation playing chess. Tiger has plans with Madame Pince (to enjoy her truly excellent tea) and with Professor McGonagall (to learn the bagpipes!)

On Christmas Day, she wakes to discover Christmas presents for _her!_ That’s the first time ever that that’s happened! They’re mostly from her friends, but Ron’s mum has also sent her fudge and a hand-knit sweater with the letter “P” on it, probably for “Potter”. Ron explains later that despite his letters explaining that her name is Tiger, his mum had been hesitant about knitting a “T” because she didn’t feel like it was a _proper_ name. Tiger rolls her eyes at this, but she appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. It’s the softest thing she’s ever owned.

Professor McGonagall has gifted her a book of songs as well as her very own set of bagpipes. Her note reads, “Be sure to use that spell Madame Pince taught you so you don’t blow the castle down when practicing.”

Madame Pince, on the other hand, has gifted Tiger a book of the history of the Wizarding World as well as a book on great witches in contemporary Wizarding history. “You may recognize your very own Transfiguration professor in this book. May the future bring an updated edition with you alongside her,” the note reads. “Happy Christmas, Tiger.”

There is one other package, wrapped in plain brown paper. It is labeled “To Harry”, and Tiger _almost_ leaves it be out of spite. In the end, her curiosity wins. A single slip of parchment and an incredibly silky cloth fall out of the brown paper. She reads the note out loud: “Your father left this in my possession when he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well."

Tiger and Ron look at each other, then back at the lump of silvery fabric on the floor. _House of the brave,_ Tiger reminds herself, and reaches forward to grab it. When she puts it on, Ron gasps and tells her that it’s an Invisibility Cloak. It sounds really neat, and if it truly belonged to her father then she does want to keep it, but… the fact that it was addressed to “Harry” bothers her. She’s fairly certain that this is an adult’s handwriting. If one of the faculty or staff had been holding on to it and only gave it to her now, they probably reside at Hogwarts. But _everyone_ knows that she’s Tiger. Despite _still_ not knowing how that happened, she’s more bothered that someone was close enough to her dad to have something of his but has also gone out of their way to use her old name. 

In the end, she carefully wraps the cloak back up and stores it in her trunk. It’s not like she has much use for it.

The Christmas lunch is shared at one table with all the students and professors who have stayed at Hogwarts. Tiger makes a beeline to sit next to Professor McGonagall, but Ron waylays her and by the time they actually get to the table, Madame Pince is sitting in the seat Tiger had been aiming for. She settles for sitting with Ron and his twin brothers, Fred and George. She’s always found them a little overwhelming. It’s clear that Professor McGonagall likes them though, and that’s enough for her to give them a chance.

* * *

The day before break ends, Headmaster Dumbledore pulls Tiger aside as she is leaving dinner in the Great Hall. Ron had left earlier, dashing out with a muttered “Bathroom!” Tiger had lingered in the hall, relishing the peacefulness, warmth, and a full belly. When she finally rises, she is the last person in the Great Hall. 

“How are you, my boy?” the headmaster greets jovially.

Tiger glares sullenly at him. “‘M not a boy,” she mumbles. Honestly, she’s corrected him before already. Is it really so hard to remember? Especially since he seems to go out of his way to give her special attention that she doesn’t want. 

“Ah yes, of course. But Harry, do tell me, have you enjoyed your stay at Hogwarts so far?”

Tiger slouches even more. “My name is _Tiger_ ,” she grinds out. 

“But Harry is the name your parents gave you! Wouldn’t you like to honor their memory? Surely you don’t wish to ignore their sacrifices for you!”

She looks away at that. It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to, but she doesn’t feel like pretending to be a boy would actually express appreciation for her dead parents’ love. 

After a long moment of awkward silence, Headmaster Dumbledore seems to realize that she has no intention of saying anything. Sighing as if incredibly put upon, he amends, “So Tiger, how has your break been?”

“Fine,” she says and turns to leave. 

“Ah!” the headmaster admonishes, catching her arm. “I only meant to ponder if you had familiarized yourself with all the classrooms yet? You have only seven years at Hogwarts, and there is mystery and adventure to be found in abundance. Perhaps you might like to… _take a look.”_

He says this last sentence gazing directly into Tiger’s eyes, and she feels a sudden need to be elsewhere. “I’ll just… be going now…” she replies absently, her feet already carrying her up the stairs.

She’s not sure how she gets there, but eventually she ends up in an abandoned classroom before a dusty mirror with the inscription “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi”. Tiger barely glances at it before looking into the depths of the mirror, and then she gasps. 

It’s her, but wearing a cute outfit and with hair so long it looks like it’s never been cut short by Aunt Petunia on a mission (even that time it had grown back, it had only grown back to what it was before that horrendous haircut). On either side of her are her parents, and they look so _proud_ and _happy_. Her dad is beginning a braid in Tiger’s hair, and her mum is holding her hand tightly. Their lips are moving, saying something that looks an awful lot like “We love you Tiger!” Behind them, she can make out a crowd of friends and her dad’s family, all smiling and happy to be with her.

A long time passes, or at least it seems like it does. She’s not sure how long she’s been staring at the mirror when Headmaster Dumbledore comes up behind her. He tells her not to dwell on dreams and that the mirror will be moved that night, so she should not go looking for it again. 

Tiger feels a small prickle of irritation at that, and it’s not until she’s snuck back into her bed in Gryffindor Tower that she realizes she has never felt an urge to go looking for anything, trouble or not, until the headmaster had spoken to her. It was almost like he had planted the idea in her mind! Tiger resents that almost as much as the mindreading Sorting Hat and resolves not to get near the headmaster anymore.

* * *

The plan is rather difficult to carry out, since Headmaster Dumbledore seems intent on singling Tiger out. Luckily, she has practice avoiding people and expertly runs in the opposite direction as fast as she can. Hey, no one said she was particularly tactful about avoiding others.

In an attempt to further evade the headmaster, Tiger begins hiding on the grounds. This is how she ends up visiting Hagrid’s cabin. The man is overjoyed to see her and continually offers her rock cakes that she pretends to eat. While he’s nice company for a day, she really would rather spend her teatime with others who won’t inadvertently try to break her teeth, so she only goes to Hagrid’s cabin once that semester.

It turns out she doesn’t have another chance, because his hut burns down one night and a baby dragon is seen crying and setting absolutely everything in the vicinity ablaze. All of the faculty are pulled out to deal with the emergency: the Care of Magical Creatures professor takes care of the blaze, Madame Pomfrey tends to Hagrid’s burns while Professor McGonagall chews him out, and Headmaster Dumbledore does something to contain the dragon. Tiger eventually finds out from Ron that his brother Charlie, who works on a dragon reserve, had been summoned to come get the baby. 

Somehow, Hagrid is not sacked and banned from Hogwarts even though (as Hermione informs Tiger), keeping dragons is _very much illegal_. He does lose all responsibilities that bring him near children until he finishes a course on Creature Safety, though. Professor McGonagall is adamant that this is the minimum for anyone who would think to bring such a dangerous creature so close to a school.

(This may seem unusual to someone who suspects Professor McGonagall to have contributed a trap in rooms guarded by an enormous Cerberus, but in fact she set up her puzzle second, after Professor Snape, then left and thought nothing more of the third-floor corridor until much, much later.)

* * *

Tiger’s efforts prove to work up until the second-to-last night of term, when she once again feels a sudden urge to go wandering. Ron, Hermione, and Neville join her, though none of them seem to have a clue why they’re traipsing up to the Forbidden Third-Floor Corridor. When they reach the door, it’s slightly ajar. Behind it, a giant three-headed dog is snoozing peacefully, an open trapdoor visible just behind one of its massive paws. Tiger looks at the rest of her friends, and they gaze back. The four of them shrug and dive into the trapdoor. They _are_ all Gryffindors, after all. 

Devil’s Snare entwines Tiger immediately, but just as quickly, Neville has begun shouting, “Don’t struggle! Tiger, you’re best at Charms, cast some fire!” 

“ExCUSE me?” Hermione shrieks. Before Tiger can react, she has wrestled her wand out and cast a charm that shoots cool bluebell flames into the swarming vines. The plant retreats, and Tiger leads to way to the door. Tiger can hear her roommate muttering grumpily about not being best in Charms. She’s glad that Hermione’s mad rather than upset—the girl from the beginning of the year would have been distraught to find out that others didn’t think of her as the smart one. It seems that her friends have succeeded in showing Hermione that people will like her for her snark and music tastes, rather than just her ability to do well in school.

The four of them enter a room that has a bunch of flying keys and a door that will not open to _Alohomora_. After a short deliberation on which key might be the one they need, Tiger spots a broomstick and speedily catches the one with bent wings. She’s loved flying ever since their second lesson (their first having been soured by Draco’s bullying), and watching Quidditch matches has been fun. Professor McGonagall has told her that her dad was a star Seeker during his time at Hogwarts and laments the state of this year’s Quidditch Cup. Tiger resolves to try out for the team next year when she is able.

The next room contains a passed-out troll, which smells absolutely horrid. Tiger and her friends hurry past that one and through to the next room, which is a giant chessboard. When they enter, four of the pieces move off their squares. All eyes fall on Ron, who gulps and then squares his shoulder as he begins to direct the pieces. When the game finishes with him lying unconscious on the floor, Hermione elects to stay with him and urges Tiger and Neville to move onto the next room. 

Here, Tiger casts her dictation spell and easily solves the logic puzzle and agonizes over whether she or Neville will move to the next room (and _why_ won’t the feeling go away? She never even wanted to be here, but she knows in her bones that she can’t ignore the pull). That’s when she remembers the charm that witches would use to freeze flames during the era of witch hunts. Over tea with Madame Pince, the librarian had asked her if she enjoyed her Christmas gifts, and Tiger had wondered how it would feel to freeze flame. Madame Pince had then taught her the spell so she could try it over a candle flame. Tiger had concluded that the tickling sensation was almost worse than the burn and she would rather have neither, thank you very much.

She’s glad now for the tickling sensation though, because it allows both her and Neville, who has swallowed the potion, to pass through the portal and find—

“Professor _Quirrell?”_ Tiger exclaims. “Were you pulled down here too?”

He whirls around from his position in front of a familiar mirror. It takes Tiger a moment to remember where she has seen it before, but by the time she does, Professor Quirrell is speaking.

“Why are you here?” he demands. Then he pauses and adds, “ _Two_ of you?”

“Neville came along because I made him,” Tiger lies. She doesn’t want him to get in trouble. Beside her, Neville is beginning to shake fearfully. His hands are fisted in his pockets, and his shoulders are hunched in as if he’s trying to shrink his bulky frame down to her own diminutive size. She holds his arm comfortingly.

“No matter,” Professor Quirrell mutters to himself. “Now more importantly, how can I get the Stone…” 

Tiger has no idea what he’s talking about and is more interested in finding a way out of here (the feeling has finally disappeared! Hooray!) when a disembodied voice hisses, “Use the girl... to find the stone…”

Professor Quirrell begins striding towards Tiger, who backs away fearfully and drags Neville along with her. “Why are you doing this, Professor Quirrell?” she yells. “You’re being rather frightening you know!”

The voice speaks again, and this time it’s louder. “Let her seee…” it hisses. “I want to know the face my enemy wearsss so I can savor it when I destroy her…”

Professor Quirrell begins to unwind his turban without hesitation. When he is finished, he turns around, and for an instant Tiger sees the most grotesque sight she’s ever seen in her life, and that’s saying something when you go to magic school. 

It’s only for an instant, though, because when Neville sees the face on the back of Professor Quirrell’s head he screams and whips his hands out from his pockets, flinging a dark _something_ that rapidly expands before Tiger’s eyes into the Devil’s Snare from the first room. Professor Quirrell drops his wand in surprise when the first vine envelops his head, smothering him. More vines quickly follow, wrapping him up tightly. 

Tiger quickly snatches the fallen wand. She’s not sure what’s going on, but whatever that _thing_ is, it had called her its enemy, and Professor Quirrell is clearly working with it. She figures it’s best if something declaring itself her enemy doesn’t have a wand to fight her with. 

At the same time, Neville is yelling at her to run away! So the two of them dash back through the door (luckily, their flame protections are still active) and run all the way back to the Devil’s Snare room where they find Hermione attempting to levitate Ron up through the trapdoor. Tiger and Neville attempt to fill her in about the danger of the situation but only succeed in yelling over each other incoherently. It takes them three tries, but eventually they are able to convey that Professor Quirrell is working with someone who wants to destroy Tiger. In Hermione’s shock, she drops Ron, who lands with a _thunk!_ that makes all of them cringe.

“Oww,” he moans. “Can’t you lot keep it down? I’m injured here.”

Tiger turns to tell Ron to stuff it, and that’s how she sees the staircase. She supposes it had been hidden by the abundance of plants before (and later, she resolves to ask Neville how and, more importantly, _why_ on earth he managed to squirrel away Devil’s Snare into his pockets). Now, she just points at it and lets out a wordless cry. The others turn to follow her finger, and as one, they each grab a bit of Ron and scramble up the staircase.

* * *

After scolding them for being out of bed, Madame Pomfrey whisks Ron away to a hospital bed. At their request, she also summons Professor McGonagall, who looks none too pleased to find them out of bed. At Tiger’s insistence that she and the others had been compelled to enter the third floor corridor, the professor had gone pale. When she then gets to the part where Professor Quirrell and an unknown _guest_ on the back of his head may or may not be bound and helpless on the floor of the final room, she stands, casts a spell that sends a silvery cheetah streaking out of her wand and through the window, and legs it out of the Hospital Wing. 

Tiger, Hermione, and Neville stare at each other for a bit. “What was that all about?” Hermione asks. 

“Maybe she had to go to the bathroom?” Tiger jokes. The other two just look unimpressed with her.

Bored and nervous, Tiger passes the time by practicing her latest Nymphs of Neverland song. Hermione passes the time by correcting her each time she gets a note wrong; unfortunately, Hermione herself lacks the musical terminology to explain what is off about Tiger’s rendition, and the two eventually argue so much that Neville cuts them both off.

That reminds Tiger to ask, “Hey, how did you fit that Devil’s Snare in your pockets?”

Neville blushes. “It’s a rare plant! I just wanted to study it later, so I used a Shrinking charm and then Immobilus on it so it wouldn’t hurt itself struggling in my pockets.”

Tiger is impressed. “Those are second year Charms, Nev! When did you start practicing ahead?”

His blush deepens. “In January. I asked Professor Sprout what kinds of Charms and stuff she uses around the greenhouses. I figured I’d be using them eventually so better to learn them now.”

“Well I, for one, am very glad that you did,” Tiger announces. “That was so cool how you just whipped it out at him!”

“I wish I could have seen,” Hermione harrumphs. “It would have been fascinating to see a Devil’s Snare projectile. You said that it got bigger after you threw it?”

“Yeah, Professor Sprout uses a variation of the Shrinking Charm on the plants so that when you’re ready to repot them, it’s just one motion rather than two.”

The three continue to talk about Herbology for a little while longer until the doors slam open. An irate Professor McGonagall and a somewhat sheepish-looking Headmaster Dumbledoor stride in. Bobbing along behind them is a mass of unnaturally-still black vines. Before they can move, Professor McGonagall turns to Tiger, Hermione, and Neville and ushers them out of the Hospital Wing.

* * *

When they come to visit Ron the next morning, he looks much improved from his bruised state the previous night. It turns out that whatever had transpired in the Hospital Wing, Ron had not been conscious to appreciate it. Madame Pomfrey had put him into a healing sleep, and he’s stuck here for observation until noon. The four of them resign themselves to hearing about the outcome of their strange evening as an announcement at dinner or something. While the four of them are socializing and attempting to cheer Ron up that he hadn’t missed too much at breakfast (“It was only toast!” Hermione assures frantically, seeing tears beginning to form in Ron’s eyes. “Not even eggs! Or, or bacon!”), Madame Pomfrey appears at the edge of Tiger’s vision and beckons her over.

The matron then casts a privacy charm and asks Tiger, “Correct me if I am presuming, Ms. Potter, but are you transgender?”

Tiger nods, having not at all expected this conversation.

“I see. Are you aware that there are certain potions regimens Hogwarts has available to aid in gender transition?”

“No? I… I don’t even quite know what all those words mean,” Tiger admits bashfully. She makes a mental note to ask Madame Pince later. 

“Of course, dear. What I mean to say is that as the matron of the school, I am qualified to help you with potions that will help your body match your mind—in very simplified terms, the potions will help you develop a girl’s body.” She holds up a hand to stop Tiger’s questions. “Since you weren’t aware of these options until just now, I’m going to give you more information so you can discuss your transition with your guardians. Ultimately, they would have to sign to allow you to pursue the treatments. Do you have any other questions I can answer for you?”

Tiger, who is planning on picking Madame Pince’s brains right after this, shakes her head. Madame Pomfrey nods and strides back to her office. Before Tiger and her friends leave, she discreetly hands Tiger an envelope.

* * *

Nothing is said about Professor Quirrell at dinner. Instead, the headmaster attempts to summon Tiger to his office alone that evening. Tiger is still feeling mulishly upset at him, remembering how he had been involved the two times she had felt that odd compulsion to go wandering. She deigns to spend her last evening with Madame Pince instead, and she leaves at the end of the night with the promise that Madame Pince will owl her some informational books on gender transition this summer.

The Leaving Feast is a madhouse. For some reason, Headmaster Dumbledore sees fit to award Gryffindor a bunch of points for Tiger and her friends’ little adventure last night. That leads to more than a few glares from the Slytherin table, particularly because they had also won the Quidditch Cup, so the amount of points the headmaster gave to Gryffindor was truly ridiculous. There’s nothing Tiger can do about it except hope that no one is mad at her personally. 

On the train home the next day, she makes sure to seek out Draco.

“Hey Draco,” she greets, leaning against the doorway to the compartment where he’s sitting with Crabbe and Goyle. “I just wanted to say thank you so much for all your help this past year. I’m sure it was your _personal_ efforts that kept everyone from finding out my real identity.” 

Draco is grinning so wide now, Tiger is surprised that his smile hasn’t pushed Crabbe and Goyle off their seats. “I was glad to!” he squeals. 

“I hope I can keep counting on you then.” Tiger gives a small smile in return. “Rivers flow and move along, sands of time rush past in song,” she sings softly as she turns away from the compartment.

The soft _thud!_ behind her confirms that Draco has once again fainted at hearing his idol sing _just for him._

* * *

Tiger rejoins Lavender, Parvati, Hermione, Ron, and Neville in the compartment. It’s awkward at first because the six of them have never all spent time together. By the end of the train ride, though, Lavender has coached them all into managing a passable rendition of the Hogwarts school song in three-part harmony (Lavender on countermelody, Tiger on alto, and the other four on main melody since they don’t share Lavender’s and Tiger’s musical prowess).

It’s a good way to end the year, Tiger thinks, even if she has to go back to the Dursleys. She had been hoping otherwise, but apparently not even Professor McGonagall can override the rule that no students are to remain at Hogwarts over the summer term. 

_It can’t be_ that _bad_ , Tiger thinks. _It’s just one summer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Some notes that I wasn't able to clarify in the story:
> 
> -If you think Tiger should have Sorted Slytherin - you're absolutely right, she does have ambition and sneakiness in bounds. But I'm a believer that the Sorting Hat puts you in Gryffindor if you ask, and Tiger asked.  
> -Because Tiger makes friends with Hermione in this universe, if anyone were to have been crying feeling lonely and anxious in a bathroom stall on Halloween, I think it would have been Neville.  
> -Draco doesn't recognize that this Tiger and Tiger Turpin are different because the Nymphs of Neverland don't actually show their faces. In my head, their sound is like a mix of the etherealness of Florence and the Machine and rock. Mostly I picture them sounding like Aimer.  
> -I finished the fic at 2am, which also involved me accidentally writing the entirety of the song that Tiger sings at the end. I can post the lyrics if anyone's interested (but I'm not a lyricist so I feel like they're bad o.o)


	2. Current - Nymphs of Neverland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By request, the lyrics I wrote for the song Tiger sings to Draco in the train  
> I feel really embarrassed for some reason?? 🙈 I can hear this song very clearly in my head and I wish I could do it justice and bring it to life  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: I've made a piano version and a piano+vocals version for anyone who wants to hear a pale imitation of what this song sounds like in my head!  
> [Non-vocal](https://cequonveut.tumblr.com/post/624031659229134848/hey-guess-what-its-more-tiger-potter-content)  
> [Vocal](https://cequonveut.tumblr.com/post/624031579761737728/hey-guess-what-its-more-tiger-potter-content)

Current - Nymphs of Neverland

Rivers flow and move along,  
Sands of time rush past in song,  
Birds will sing and dew will cling  
Upon- the- leaves-

[enter soft rock beat]  
I can’t control it, there’s no way.  
Never do I get a say  
Swept up in the current then  
I’m tumbling in a howling wind,

[drums do a soft rock beat, bass gets low and then intensifies]  
My breath- is- gone-  
It’s a- new- dawn-  
Please come, some- one—

[instrumentals drop to very quiet]  
You know- it’s- true-  
It’s no-thing- new-

[bass drops, intense drums start, loud, yelling rock music]  
Time never really stops,  
No control of it, there’s not.  
You’re a pebble in a pond upon a universal dot

There’s nothing you can do,  
Let the current flow around you  
You’re stronger when you bend than if you break the ties that bind you.

[accelerating]  
The water keeps on flowing  
So you better make a showing 

[sudden drop in intensity, only hi hats and bass]  
And feel- the- rush  
Close your eyes- and- hush.  
[cut out all instrumental on ‘hush’]

[I N T E N S E]  
Current! Let it sweep you down and  
Current! Turn you round and round  
Your eyes are gonna wanna close  
But stay awake, don’t drift or doze-  
You’re living if you’re seeing that  
The very state of being is be-  
[instrumentals tone down]  
Fore- your- eyes  
Don’t trust- the- lies

[no guitar or bass, just steady kick drum and brush cymbal]  
Feel- the- flow-  
[no instrumentals]  
Ready- set- go.


End file.
